Spirit
by Keeper of Tomes
Summary: 55 of the 100 Challenge. A memory-She had to ask herself why, but the scientific part of her brain shut down rather quickly. Why? "Because I miss her, that's why..." SPOILERS FOR EP. 38.


**Title: **Spirit**  
Author: **Keeper of Tomes**  
Song: **None**  
Summary: **55 of the 100 Challenge. "She had to ask herself why, but the scientific part of her brain shut down rather quickly. Why? 'Because I miss her, that's why.'' SPOILERS FOR EP. 38.**  
Words: **1069**  
Pairing(s): **None

This is where I explode in giddy delight! YES! We saw Cyclonis' mother! YESYESYESYESYESYESYESYES! And...I was right about her being a blond. YAP. This is where either all my theories are proved correct, or are dashed to pieces. But I really don't care. I'm elated all the same.

I'm starting a forum for anyone else who's bursting with absolute joy at this new revelation, as well as for other episodes. I have a feeling the show's going to turn a little more serious from here on out--the next episode has Dark Ace going crazy--so yeah. Forum. Check it out if you want to.

So here's my response. Because I just _haad _to write one. :)

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**cyclonia:  
a long time ago**

Her body never emulated any sort of warmth. It was always an enveloping and bone-chilling cold that seeped into the metal of the throne, into the souls of whomever dare meet her icey gaze. She was rigid, harsh, unforgiving...as the long line of rulers before her. But not today.

Today, she was not queen. She was queen-and-something-else. She was--

"Mom?"

Master Cyclonis sidled to the side...just a little. Enough for her small daughter to creep up beside her, one of her hands clutching a battered old doll. The ruler looked down on the girl and managed a stiff smile. "Come to join me today, Lark?" The child merely nodded, then continued her forward gaze; the girl was intent on being like her mother in every way possible. She mimicked the steely gaze almost perfectly. The two of them made quite a pair.

Moving slightly closer to her mother's side, Lark turned her round face up and grimaced. "So what do we do?" she'd asked, curious as to what sitting on a throne for a few hours accomplished. Usually, her mother was so active...but every few days, she would settle down on the iron chair and stare into the darkness.

"What do we do?" She laughed and ruffled her daughter's hair. "We rule, Lark." And she placed a pale hand on her child's shoulder, before resuming her steely gaze ahead. Lark curled up ever so slightly, her grip on the doll loosening as she relaxed. She allowed the silence of the dark to close around her.

**home:  
or was it ever home?**

She sighed as she eyed the fallen machinery, sighed as she imagined the broken pieces of her past lying crushed beneath. Damn Snipe.

Then straightened and brushed the grit from her dress. No more sending others to do the dirty work for her. It was time for her to roll up her sleeves...and get the job done. A quick glance at the empty throne nearby made her eyes lower themselves momentarily. A memory...that she would work hard to restore. A story that must be retold; Lark Cyclonis cast a dark look at the world around her, then set off to recover what was long lost.

**the sky:  
just a while**

Cryptic stares had been commonplace when she summoned the Nightcrawlers. Even more so when she said they were to attack the Storm Hawks. The pesky squadron hadn't done anything in days.

Then again...Master Cyclonis was never to be questioned.

**the clouds:  
and a dogfight to boot**

"ATTACK!"

The guttural roar wrenched itself from her body with horrible glee. The Nightcrawlers swept like a dark stain across the sky. Amused smile, anyone? You deserve it when you see the shock on Piper's face, as she realizes these Nightcrawlers are just a bit tougher than before.

Cyclonis herself flies like she has never flown before. What is driving her? What is pushing her so hard, she quivers in her seat just thinking about it?

The questioning voice of the Nightcrawler commander asks her for instructions. "Aerrow is mine. The rest, you can have." Yes...even her urge to tackle Piper herself was diminished by something else...something much, much, stronger. She broke right into the Condor's bridge with a burst of flame, and was shocked to feel herself catapulted out the way she came. _Oh, shit no you didn't. _Her fury was unharnessed. She blasted with an anger that couldn't be properly explained... Not by anything save the ache in her chest...

What was this pain?

Piper was pushed aside, thrown to the ground with sadistic pleasure.

And then it was Aerrow...

Her fingers closed in final victory around the little green crystal. She raised her staff and readied herself to kill...and then Part B of her miraculous plan went splat. Before she knew it, the firing end of Piper's staff was in her face. And although she was disappointed...

Cyclonis slammed her staff to the ground and sent herself home in a column of red light.

**the palace:  
her palace. our palace.**

She knelt before the broken pieces of what had been her workstation, and lifted the heavy machinery with gentle care.

With what looked so much like love. Could it be love? Quite easily.

Cyclonis raised the crystal and watched the stone repair itself, watched the blue pieces merge and meld; _I was so broken, am I still broken now? _

She had to ask herself why, but the scientific part of her brain shut down rather quickly. Why? "Because I miss her, that's why," she whispered out loud. "I miss her," she repeated. Another sigh. The holographic image of her mother, sitting stoic and beautiful on the iron throne, met her eyes with blissful joy. She was tempted to reach out and touch her, touch the pointed and rigid face she needed so much right now.

_And there is me_.

Sitting beside mother-dear. Unsmiling even then. Clutching the doll that lies at the bottom of a dusty trunk right now. The image fades; she closes her eyes.

_Have I made you proud, mom?_

_Have I?_

The darkness, the smoke, and the mirrors of crystals, they envelop her like arms and a blanket. She hopes she hears a yes, but that's all in her imagination. Magic swells from the insides of the darkest heart in the sky, magic and love-laid-to-waste.

A presence dangles about behind her shaking, kneeling form.

A spirit.


End file.
